


The spirit of the lake

by ARMEN15



Category: Bron | Broen | The Bridge
Genre: F/M, Holidays free time summer fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-20 14:48:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15536604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARMEN15/pseuds/ARMEN15
Summary: A summer holiday for our heroes in a beautiful lansdcape. How will they cope with a new experience?





	1. Chapter 1

The flight had a delay due to a sudden strike by the Italian flight controllers and the landing was an hour later than planned.  
The airport was ready to call it a day, only the newspaper shop and a cafeteria open in the arrivals area.  
Saga, Henrik and Astrid sat to drink a bottle of water and eat a sandwich; their final destination was close but they had to take a train first, then change into another one and later travel by boat.  
Henrik was nervous, this inconvenient just at the start of the holiday was a real nuisance and he had to find a solution soon.  
Astrid controlled the timetable Saga has saved on her tablet, they would sure miss the boat for Bellagio  
“We’re late.” She reported to her father.  
“We call the hotel and see if they can help us.” Henrik decided.  
“Don’t look at me, my English is the worst.”  
Saga was on her “no way” mode and Henrik didn’t reply, he simply did the call.  
“Grand Hotel Bellagio, buonasera. Sono Elena, come posso aiutarla? ’”  
“Hallo.”  
Henrik paused, lost hearing another language spoken. Like he didn’t imagine the receptionist would have answered in Italian. They were in Italy after all, although in Malpensa airport all was written in English, or so it seemed.  
“I’m Sabroe from Denmark. I reserved rooms.”  
“Yes sir, for two nights.”  
“We are in airport. A delay. We are late. How can we get to you?”  
The efficient receptionist asked him to wait while she controlled the timetables.  
“The last fast boat starts from Como at 19.20 and the last slow boat around 19.45.”  
Henrik looked at his chrono, it was already 18.  
“We’ll never make it in time.”  
“You can reach Como by train, there are two trains each hour. Then take a bus. Last bus is at 21.50 in summer. Or a taxi, but it is more expensive than the bus.”  
He thanked and explained his family the suggestion he got from the hotel..  
“We need to take a bus. The last one is long after 21 so we’ll be in time.”  
They moved along the arrivals area, following the train signs and they thought they had to go out of the building, where they passed along a series of car rental and taxi services.  
A fat man near a black van tried to stop people, probably wanting to sell transportation; he saw the trio looking around searching the train sign again and he went past Saga, stopping in front of her.  
She stared at him, her usual way, and the man seemed intimidated by her intense expression  
“German?”  
“No. Swedish.”  
“Taxi for Milan?”  
“We go north.”  
“Taxi for lake?”  
“How much?”  
“Cheap, very cheap.”  
She took off the train tickets from the travel agency and showed them to the man  
He backed off, letting Saga continue. Lucky for him, he did not understood her complains to the man walking alongside her.  
“If Italy starts so, we can arrest everybody. Unregistered taxi!”  
“Saga, we’re on holiday.”  
“I’ve accepted this idea only for Astrid. Uncivilised countries. We’ll see.”  
The interchange train station was dirty and depressive, people asking money, immigrants talking loud on the train.  
Saga was getting more and more nervous, Henrik started wondering if it was a good idea to expose her to the rest of the world.  
Maybe a summerhouse in their home countries would have been a better choice.  
But all the reviews assured the lake was so beautiful and magic and he thought it could be just the right short holiday, an experiment.  
They would arrived in Como quite late, their first problem the search for the bus tickets.  
A girl on the train, sat opposite Astrid on the corridor, noticed them and asked if they needed help. She spoke a good English and kindly explained the very short walk from the station to the main bus stop.  
“You can’t miss is, it is just 50 metres from the station, the tickets are the problem, usually we buy them at the edicola.”  
Astrid asked what an edicola was.  
“A place where you buy newspapers and magazines, but they are all closed now. Too late. I want to help you, when we’ll arrive I'll find a way.”  
Henrik noticed the girl and Astrid started a conversation; they could have a age difference of four, maximum five years. He grabbed bits of their dialogue, she was a student, was in university for the last exam before holidays and lived up a hill over the town.  
At the small old building that was called station - Saga would define it a smelling and ugly shack - the girl proposed them to follow her to the bus area.  
The counter was closed, but she addressed the people around.  
“Chi va a Bellagio e ha tre biglietti da vendere per favore?”  
A man with a old style hat took off his wallet and passed the girl the required tickets.  
“Non voglio niente, li uso così poco. Un regalo alla ragazzina, si vede è stanca.” 

“We have to pay him.” Saga whispered to Henrik.  
He knew how stubborn Saga could be and turned to the girl.  
“I’m sorry, my partner thinks we need to refund the man.”  
“No, he’d be offended, he’s an old man of the lake, probably he just wants to help the tourists. He intended the tickets as a gift for your daughter.”  
“How do you know he’s from here? “  
“I hear how he speaks, we from this area understand each other,”  
“But he’s been so kind.”  
“It’s not a big deal, less than10 euro.”  
“He smokes, can I buy him cigarettes? Or offer him something to drink? It’s quite hot today, I see a cafè open that way.”  
“Ok, I ask.”  
The man accepted a pack of cigarettes and Henrik bought four soft drinks, including two Oransoda for Astrid and the girl, whose name was Carla, his daughter told him.  
Now I have to go, if you look up the sky is dark, it’s gonna rain soon. It happens often here. I have to take the funicolare, if you want come and see me Saturday morning, I’ll show you a great view from up there.”  
She pointed at a strange cut on the mountain, a straight line made of steel shining in the dying light.  
“It‘s funny to try it, few places in the world have a funicolare like ours.”  
They settled on the bus, Saga and Astrid on the row behind Henrik and the old man.  
A strange dialogue made by gestures and some German words started.  
The man went to Germany for eight years to work in a factory, but he did not like the place and the people, he only wanted to return home and be a fisherman, like his father had been. .  
He pointed at Astrid behind them  
“Beautiful fraulein. “ he stated.  
Henrik nodded.  
“Und frau, blond”  
“Danke”  
The man took from his wallet a old photo of a family of four, parents and a boy and a girl, aged five and ten maybe.  
The woman had brown hair and a very pale skin.  
“Mein frau, half German, half Italian” he explained. Then pointed at the sky up above. Henrik got the meaning. He reciprocated with a smaller photo, the format for passports and badges, Alice with a newborn Anna in her arms; his hand trembled a little when he pointed up the sky, too. He omitted that mother and daughter were now forever together.  
The rain suddenly started, strong, furious, heavy drops darkening everything around them. A woman had to leave the bus next stop and she took a newspaper form her bag to place it over her head before jumping down the bus and heading for a nearby shop as a shelter.  
The streets were narrow and saga wondered how the bus driver could manage such a difficult road.  
He was used to, she decided, he probably did it more than once a day. The lake appeared in all its fury, the strong wind creating big waves and white crests.  
A long section of the route was between woods, few sights of the lake, only rain and leaves and branches that scratched the bus structure.  
Asrrid touched her father shoulder, she was a little scared for the weather.  
The old man smiled at her.  
“No problem, no problem, wasser mountain, no problem, funf minute sun.”  
“What did he said?”  
“Something that if the rain come from the mountains there is no problem and in five minutes we’ll have sun again.”  
“Five minutes today or tomorrow?”  
Saga was strangely ironic.  
Italy, land of sun, sea, hot days and sandy beaches.  
Was it the right country? Or maybe they had flown through a black hole in Transilvania where next stop would be Dracula’s castle? She decided to keep to herself her ideas, Henrik had planned so carefully everything he did not deserve her constant complains. But if the hotel was not up his descriptions, with a huge bed and soft mattress and the famous view, she’d return home the following day, alone.

“Grand Hotel Bellagio, buonasera. Sono Elena, come posso aiutarla?  
Grand hotel. Good evening, I'm Elena, how can I help you?  
“Chi va a Bellagio e ha tre biglietti da vendere per favore?”  
who goes to Bellagio and has three tickets to sell, please?  
“Non voglio niente, li uso così poco. Un regalo alla ragazzina, si vede è stanca  
i dont' want money, I use them seldom, a gift to the girl, I see she is tired.


	2. Chapter 2

Ch2 

Saga woke up around six in the morning. The large window was open and a ray of light filtered trough the wooden panels. She got up from the double bed in her panties and t shirt, used the soft cotton slippers the hotel had in the welcome set and opened the panels.  
And the lake was there for the taking, a breathtaking landscape. Looking east she found the mountains of the opposite shore in the background, dark green with the sun getting high over them, looking down the deep blue lake, with ducks swimming and two small fishing boats already out, on the pier the fast boat ready to leave, to allow people to go to work in town.  
She was hungry and opened the room fridge where they stored the remaining fruits they had find in a large bowl as a welcome gift and the bottle with the fruit cocktail.  
Henrik had called Elena at the reception and asked to switch the chilly bottle of white sparkling wine with something non alcoholic.  
He was taking in an extremely serious way his abstinence from every substance so that Saga had stopped snugs, too, for support. A waiter brought them a mixed fruit drink that Astrid liked a lot. Saga grabbed three apricots and returned to the balcony.  
She sat on one of the chairs, eating and taking note of every detail.  
The baker was already working, probably he started much earlier, Saga smelled the flavour of fresh bread and she remembered the good pizza they ate the evening before in a little restaurant up a narrow stairs, suggested by the old man of the bus.  
The street under her was already in motion, daily deliveries, cleaning the pavement, two men cutting old flowers from the large vases along the Lungolago.  
She saw a couple of walkers with big backpacks and mountain equipment examining the map and heading for the top of the hill; she remembered she saw a panel with the description of a trail up over the mountains.  
The church bells stroke six. The sound spread all around, nothing similar at home, the iron bells were huge, she got glimpses of the church tower. More windows opened, houses and the cafè of the street, the car ferry was already in the middle of the lake.  
Saga wanted Henrik to see what she had discovered.  
She returned in the room and stood by his side of the bed. She liked to see him sleeping, always. He was so peaceful and relaxed it seemed a pity to disturb him.  
But the reason was good, the moment would pass and he’d miss the first morning of their first holiday.  
So she placed a hand on his shoulders and called his name.  
A little more encouragement was needed, but she got his sweet smile when he opened his eyes and saw her standing beside him.  
“Come here, I want to show you something.”  
She returned to the window, he grabbed his t shirt and followed.  
He bathed too in the lovely sight, more beautiful because there was someone to share with.  
Saga was explaining him all the things she had noticed, Henrik wondered for how long she had been there. When he saw she was leaning on the rail, hands on the iron bar, he moved his hand closer, slowly, until skin touched skin.  
Henrik stood still, not wanting Saga to leave his side. She was happy, her face relaxed after a good night of rest; she and Astrid talked a lot at dinner about Italian fashion and Astrid showed Saga some glamorous photo sessions from the magazines they found in the restaurant. Astrid seemed more interested in the creative part of the process and not the modelling one, so Henrik hoped for the best, she was thin enough, he didn’t want to think about the anoressic way of life of top models.  
At home, noticing the interaction between “the girls”, as he called them, was getting slowly better, he felt confident to report Saga that Lilian had offered them a special gift: she was in a club of travel lovers and had won a Italian holiday with a good selection of destinations and hotels, but it had to be done in a very short time, a month or so, and she couldn’t take another leave, after having visited her brother in Canada just a few weeks before.  
After eight years without leaving Copenhagen or a village small as a bird’s nest, they all deserved something really special.  
He wanted a pause, a change of pace from therapy, counselling, introspection for himself and for Astrid; since she was back they had searched professional help. It was necessary and had been helpful but Henrik longed for something plain, something normal families do, just for once.  
To give it a try and see how things will develop with Saga, too.  
Saga agreed to the idea and they opted for one of the Italian lakes. He had to pay flights and Astrid’s single room, it was not cheap but the Grand Hotel seemed so charming it was worth the price, plus it was just for two nights. The prices for the other two nights in town were more affordable.  
What Henrik appreciated a lot was the confused dress code the hotel guests had. From super posh and elegant women and golden rolexed men to more sportive and dynamic American young tourists.  
So Saga could easily pass unnoticed, with the light jacket and new sneakers he bought her before leaving Denmark. She accepted his logical theory Italy was far hotter than Sweden so she needed something for a warm weather.  
And Saga was still beside him, looking at the landscape.  
He leaned closer, little by little, until from hand to shoulder they were in contact.  
His head turned enough to look at her. he was sure she was fully aware of his closeness, he wanted her aware, he wanted her.  
Their “thing” was getting better since Saga returned from her trip.  
She had visited mainly Germany and Austria, she liked the Alps a lot but felt they were too oppressive after a couple of weeks, so she returned to Sweden and rented for a week a summerhouse near the sea, to think. They had texed and did frequent calls during the first two weeks, then Saga asked him to text only in case of strict emergency, because she needed to reflect a lot.  
Henrik spent those days on the edge of a cliff, fearing she wanted to leave him for good, hoping it was just a passing moment and she’d change her mind and call him, praying every God to have her back.  
The early morning of the seventh day he received a text. She’d arrived for dinner the same evening to meet Astrid.  
She came and stayed the night, he had explained Astrid how strong their bond was and his daughter showed a maturity that surprised him a lot, welcoming Saga into their lives.  
Now Saga was busy in summer university courses, he was back at work as a teacher to young detectives, a work less satisfying but he needed a part time job until Astrid would start school.  
So he felt the holiday was deserved, a pause, a change of scenery, maybe the first of a long series all around Europe.  
Saga shifted weight, he felt she was leaning into him, a change subtle but relevant. He dared to place his hand over her, carefully because a little more each passing day, he could touch, he could caress and he could kiss, too.  
Always with infinite care and in a tender way, but gone were the days she forbidden whatever touch of hands or lips on her skin.  
They were on holiday, they were alone, a large bed just behind them, he had some ideas how to spend the time before having breakfast with Astrid.  
Saga felt his facial hairs on her neck, his face insinuating under her chin, a pair of lips making a path up to her cheek.  
She turned from the rail and briefly suggested to get inside. .  
An image flashed in his mind, to carry her to the bed and lay her down with a mix of tenderness and passion. The romantic setting was playing tricks on him, but he wanted to try, so he went to her on the threshold, bowed a little, placing an arm around her shoulders and one just over her buttocks.  
“Will you trust me for once?”  
She strangely nodded.  
He lift her up in a fluid motion, she was lighter than he imagined, and his happiness touched the stars when her arm went around his neck to hold herself.  
Saga kept her arm in the same spot when Henrik posed her on the bed and she pulled to have him closer.  
Then her hands went under his t shirt, lifting it up, from his chest to his shoulders and then off his arms, in a slow motion that was mirroring the awakening they were feeling together with the rest of the world around them.  
Henrik was half sit on the bed and so for Saga was easy to slid her thumb in the waistband of his boxers and pull them down, he followed the motion and kneeled near her. He wanted her madly, was it the setting, the sunrise, the different atmosphere, but never they had sex in a place different from their beds or the prison one.  
He cursed himself for remembering the prison, how unromantic it was; better that creaking smelling bed than nothing at all, but how strange he felt each time he left the visiting room, a part of him happy their bodies always melt perfectly, the other unsure, she wanted him for real or was he just a body to satisfied a physical need?  
Now the prison was over, the Tommy case too, Susanne trial due to start soon and Saga gave him the greatest gift, not a baby but his teen daughter. He loved Saga with all his heart, he wanted to tell her but never it was the right time.  
He slid down the bed, taking her panties with him, her legs parted and he trailed kisses from her navel to her core, on each side of her tights. Her scent was getting him ready, he soon moved up and felt himself hard enough to enter her when strangely Saga took off her t shirt and lied completely naked under him. A rare occasion. She arched her back and he understood, moving an hand over her breasts, caressing those perfect mounds he seldom could see, then her ribs, one by one, kissing her shoulder and her neck, until one of her hands slide between their bodies, finding his manhood already hard and positioning it at her entrance.  
He didn’t miss the request and slide inside her, soon moving faster, stronger, hearing her moans in response, thrusting the way she liked best. His back arched when he came and she locked her legs around his hips for her release.  
Before she’d prompt him to roll over, like her usual, he was swift in holding her face between his hands.  
“I love you “  
“I know.”


	3. Chapter 3

Breakfast was a huge display of food for every taste over two long oval tables in a room with high windows overlooking the lake.  
Astrid ate cereals, fruits, cakes and marmalade with a big cup of tea. Later, her father took his last cup of tea on a table outside with a English newspaper he had bought. Saga went for a short walk up to the panoramic point that separated the two branches of the lake and Astrid decided to stroll in the hotel garden for a while until their boat trip started around an hour.  
In the hall she stopped near a rack full of maps and tourist information on display when Elena the receptionist appeared from a door with the tag Private.  
“Did you like your fruit cocktail?” Elena kindly questioned.  
“Yes, it was very good.”  
“I did it by myself when your father asked to change the wine. I imagined a girl like you would appreciate the mix I made.”  
“I liked a lot. Dad does not drink any more.”  
“Like your mother.”  
“She is Saga.” A long breath. “My mother died a long time ago.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“I’m used to.”  
Astrid shrugged her shoulders. She still remembered the day she was rescued, how much she hoped her mother would appear beside her father and hug her, but later in hospital Henrik confirmed Alice was gone for ever.  
She missed Alice, a lot, like she died a few months before, not years. The return home had been the biggest shock, seeing her mother’s things, her photos, her jewels Henrik had told now belonged to her had triggered memories she suppressed for a very long time.  
She started wearing a silver necklace, a thin chain with a pearl. Like a tear for the woman who gave her life.  
A buzz from Elena’s phone made a photo appear and distracted Astrid from her memories; Elena wore it on a long chain around her neck. A cat with deep blue eyes, a perfect white reversed v on his face, brown ears and paws partially white.  
“What’s that?” Astrid asked, curious.  
Elena took the phone in her hand.  
“She’s my cat. Agata.”  
“It’s strange.”  
“She’s a snowshoe. A mixed breed with Siamese.”  
“I never saw such a cat.”  
“She’s super cuddly. Intelligent. A clever kitty.”  
“Snowshoe?”  
“Yes.”  
“Can I have her photo?”  
Half an hour later Elena received an envelope with a little drawing in, a cat with deep blue eyes and the initials AS.

 

The day passed on too fast.  
The lovely sun allowed them to enjoy the boat ride, visiting on the other shores of the lake beautiful villages, eating on the boat a light lunch. They could appreciate the sight from the lake without walking too much.  
Their group guide said it was the best way to travel and admire the gardens and villas along the shores, instead of the narrow road.  
Astrid liked a lot the garden where some Star Wars scene were filmed, she asked lots of info about the various villas and took endless photos, at the same time trying to draw the most beautiful sights.  
There was too much to see, so she asked Henrik to use her small camera while she was working. .  
Later in the afternoon, they were strolling around the Lungo lago, looking at the shops.  
Henrik wanted to buy a gift for Lilian and Saga remembered him Carla’s advice: in Bellagio the prices were higher, a prefect trap for tourists, while in town on Saturday they’d find more opportunities at lower prices.  
But the goods on sale were indeed beautiful.  
Design objects, clothes, bags, jewels, silk. All the best Italy could create and put on show.  
Astrid and Saga could not resist a particular Italian good, the ice cream, the “original Italian ice cream” as a sign over a shop proudly announced.  
Astrid went always for fiordilatte and pistacchio, Saga was more partial to fruits, Henrik wanted to try every taste.  
Henrik searched in his pocket coins to pay for “tre coni due gusti” when a man hurt him from behind. He felt a hand under his light jacket, just for a second, that disappeared soon, finding the special thin strap Henrik used to keep documents and money safe.  
Saga noticed the gesture, too. A sign of understanding passed between the detectives. They told Astrid to wait for them inside the ice cream shop and followed the man at a safe distance, noticing how he scanned around for next victims. The streets were crowded, it was high touristic season for the lake.  
The new target was a couple, probably from German, she with a large hat and he spotting a prominent beer belly.  
The pickpocket, a short man with dark complexion, placed himself behind the couple near a shop.  
The target was busy admiring the window and he slide his hand into the man back pocket, with a big bulge on display.  
Before realising what was happening, he felt himself turned 180 degrees against a wall, Henrik holding his arms with an iron grip and Saga taking from his pockets three wallets. The German tourists looked at Saga with huge eyes.  
“Be careful to keep your wallet safe! Next time we’ll not be around.”  
Then she ordered the shop clerk - who noticed the scene and went out - to call the police; the clerk run to the other end of the square where the official blue Carabinieri’s car was parked.  
Brigadiere Rampulli and young Carabiniere Miesi were more than happy to meet the colleagues from far north, like their boss, Maresciallo Nasi, a short man with piercing dark eyes, who complimented Saga a lot.  
The pickpocket probably would be released soon, but they had the stolen goods and could call the owners and saved their holiday nuisance.  
“This is his work of the afternoon, I’m sure.”  
“You must train your men to be more observant and mix more with people.”  
Saga stated  
“We’re full of tourists in season and we’re too few.”  
“Ask your command to add reinforces.”  
“If it was so easy…we’re not efficient like you in Denmark.”  
“And Sweden. They are Danish.” Saga pointed Henrik and Astrid, back with them. “I’m Swedish.”  
“Cara collega, you’re a great officer and a charming woman, your husband is very lucky to have you by his side.” said the Maresciallo, taking Saga’s hand and lightly kissing it.  
“Have a nice stay in Bellagio.”  
He added before leaving with his men and the handcuffed pickpocket.  
Saga stood immobile, too stupefied to react. Henrik tried to light up the mood.  
“I must be careful with our Italian colleagues before you decide to partner with one of them and leave your poor “Danish husband” all alone.” 

 

“We have to decide where to go for dinner.”  
Henrik was sat on a bench looking at the panorama.  
“Two minutes to finish the chapter.” said Saga, nose buried in a new book about the history of the lake.  
“Five minutes to finish the sketch.” added Astrid, drawing a group of ducks grooming on the stairs leading to the water.  
It was around eight in the evening, the light was perfect she said, like the teacher had explained her during lessons.  
Henrik wanted to keep her busy during the months of rehabilitation from the bullet wound, so he enrolled her in a private art junior school for two afternoons a week, his goal to make her meet new friends and interact with people around her age.  
The teachers appreciated her talent and suggested Henrik to find a school that could express at best her artistic attitudes.  
She spent hours at home with her colours or her art pad, chatting and texting with other kids of the school.  
Saga closed the book and looked at Astrid, so concentrated in her work.  
She was glad Astrid had a passion in her life, something that helped her to relate with people, to observe things. At that age, Saga was a lonely child, her only purpose in life to protect her sister. It was not something healthy for a young girl, she had come to term with her former life, had discussed with her psychologist and was relieved the burdens of guild and grief for Jennifer were dissolving.  
Astrid deserved the best after her traumas, and Saga found that helping her in little daily things, answering her questions, talking about that boy, Peter, who was charming and polite and dad ‘d not understand, was helping herself, too.  
They weren’t mother and daughter, but they were becoming a family, one little step at a time.  
Saga glanced at the drawing that was forming under her eyes.  
She thought is was indeed beautiful, strangely proud that her girl was able to create such a lovely thing.  
When Saga looked up, she saw Henrik smiling happily  
“I’m finished,” Astrid stood up. “I’m ready to eat.”  
They choose for a place whose terrace assured a stunning view of the incoming sunset.  
Saga ordered a traditional pasta dish, Astrid a vegetable soup and Hentik went for the typical rice with fish. The owner, a friendly lady, asked for the drinks and when they refused wine she seemed surprised.  
“You know, Sir, the ancient say, the rice is born in the water and dies in the wine.”  
“I imagine.” Henrik paused. “I used to drink wine and beer but I’ve stopped since a bad episode in our life.”  
“I’m sorry, Signore, I don’t mean to offend you, I’ll offer you dessert for free.”  
She called the waiter and told him something in Italian. Pasta and soup arrived first.  
Saga scanned around, no sign of the rice dish; she called the waiter.  
“Where is the third dish?”  
“You must wait little, rice is long cooking.”  
“They could have told us before.”  
Henrik noticed she was nervous.  
“Saga, it is not important, I’ll wait, you eat before your pasta gets cold.”  
She moved her lips like to add something but then she changed her mind.  
Restaurants were different, so the friendly people of the previous evening could be replaced by less friendly one.  
Henrik’s dish arrived when Saga had wiped out hers and Astrid ate half of her soup. H insisted they tried the rice, the taste was strange but intriguing.  
“You could do it at home.”  
“I intend to buy a cooking book.”  
After desserts Saga asked for the bill. Her turn, Henrik had paid everything till now.  
The waiter took it and saga controlled; her forehead furrowed and she called back the man.  
“There is a mistake.”  
“No, Signora, it is ok.”  
“The owner told us desserts for free, we took two.”  
“She did not told me.”  
“Call her now.”  
The owner arrived and when she heard Saga’s complain she spoke fast and harsh to the waiter, who tried to protest but in the end went near the entrance, took off his black apron and headed for the door. 

 

That night Saga lied awake, the humidity and the heat made her sit outside and look at the sky above.  
She had hoped the sleepless nights - after prison and her panic attack, when she struggled with the decision over her pregnancy - were only a bad memory, but also during her discovery trip and back home to Henrik twice or thrice a month she couldn’t sleep well.  
This time, the events of the day wanted her attention; she had stopped the pickpocket and interact with the Maresciallo as she were still police.  
Her decision to leave had been an impulse, like throwing her badge from the bridge, a novelty for her to follow her gut so fully.  
Over forty and starting a new life was not the same as twenty and all the possibilities of the world open in front of you.  
She saw the young people at the university, how idealistic and full of hope, while she had still the remains of her burdens, a part of her life.  
She was different from them, this time not because she had her own issues, but because biology was a science, she was simply older.  
Harder.  
Wiser.  
The past experiences had left little marks on her, the people she met, the choices she did.  
She remembered the list her psychologist made her write, how few names, Hans, her parents, Jennifer, Martin, Henrik.  
All gone, dead or locked in, but one.  
Twenty years as police.  
Was is really only guilt that led her to the academy? Probably it had been the main reason, but her sense of justice, of setting things right suited her with being a detective.  
With being friend of detectives.  
With loving a detective.  
Yes, one of the few certainties of her life, she loved Henrik.  
For real. For the first time.  
She had been afraid to accept the holiday idea, she never had one before except her voyage of self discovery, that in the end wasn’t the ecstatic revelation some books theorized, instead a long process of seeing things, especially normal things, and people with new eyes.  
In the long it was difficult to appreciate alone places so different from home, her restlessness did not helped, she missed her books, she missed her native country, she missed someone; after two weeks she decided to return and isolate herself for a week.  
She wanted to be alone, she forbid Henrik's calls, hearing delusion in his voice, but she had to. It was too important to be completely without him to see how much she needed him. She kept her phone on only for a few minutes every evening, in case of emergency.  
An experiment.  
After two days the longing was strong, after three she missed his voice, after four his face owned her dreams, after five she wanted his cooking, after six her body told her sex with herself was no more enough, the last day she texted him first thing in the morning, and never rejected him since.

Carabiniere, Brigadiere and Maresciallo are ranks of one of the oldest security forces in Italy, well respected and admired.


	4. Chapter 4

Ch 4  
“Dad, I want to go and see the bookshop with old stamps we passed by before.”  
“Ok, I’ll go with you.”  
“I can go alone.”  
“It‘s in the pedestrian area, she’ll be safe.”  
Saga lifted her head from the book she was reading at one of the cafè of Piazza Duomo in downtown Como to support Astrid’s request. She restrained herself to add Astrid was already 15, at her age Saga was living by herself in a sort of girls’ dormitory and had already had sex; she has learned Henrik was not ready yet for these truths.  
They had visited the old town, the narrow streets, the old churches, the promenade along the lake and were now resting after a light lunch.  
“I’ll be back in an hour. So you have some time to be together, doing those things people in love do.”  
She was pretending indifference about romance, Henrik bet there was some young boys who had already caught her eye, but in front of dad she still wanted to be a little girl.  
He was often curious on how Astrid was evaluating his relationship with Saga, a bond so unusual, so unconventional he himself tried not to think too much when people asked him if he was married or had a partner.  
This holiday was a serious attempt for them to go up to another level.  
Saga had rented monthly a furnished mini apartment in Malmo, to declare she was not living with Henrik and Astrid, although she was often sleeping in Denmark and when Astrid visited in June for a week her maternal grandparents Saga and Henrik had a week of full cohabitation, a mix of sadness for Astrid’s absence and freedom like newlyweds.  
Henrik did hope Saga would end the rent returning from Italy. Astrid would start school, be busier, meeting new friends, being less dependant on her father. She had give him permission to have Saga under the same roof so he simply had to ask..  
For now, with two against one, Henrik had to give up and let Astrid go to the shop 

Astrid left and he saw her crossing in diagonal the ancient square and stopping in front of the romanic Duomo to take a photo of a detail of the marble facade. She was so fragile and so strong at the same time. Henrik turned to Saga and she drank the remains of her orange juice and stood up.  
“See you later in hotel, I go.”  
So much for doing thing together, he thought, with a hint of disillusionment, but Saga was Saga and after more than two years he was used at her peculiar behaviour. He loved her, it wasn’t easy or smooth, but he had choose her, forgetting all the others.  
He knew a Lene, a Tanja or whatsoever from the club could have been a easier solution for a widow with a teen daughter, a man ready for a new marriage, a bigger house, another child or two, just a normal life.  
He reflected a lot about it during the first days Saga was away, the fleeting fear shouldn’t she return to him, the possibility her kiss was their last kiss, the idea to have to be back in the dating market; every text or call he got from her spread in him a joy so intense and a longing so deep he deleted himself for good from the club mailing list.  
So he finished his coffee, paid the bill and decided for a walk near the lake to further develop his photo gallery.

Henrik was the last to return to the hotel, he discovered a path around two kilometres long that following the western shore of the lake lead to a 1800th villa with a huge garden, plus a suspended pedestrian crossing and further up the hill other two old mansions with newly restored orchards.  
The walk did him good and he wished to take a shower, but Astrid and Saga were both on the balcony of the double room, looking at some books, so he did not want to parade around half naked.  
There were three bags at the foot of the bed, probably Astrid did some shopping since he had provided her with a pre paid credit card to be independent.  
The girls were chatting so he sat at the small table and opened his laptop.  
“Aren’t you curious?” Saga asked, leaning on the window frame.  
“About what?”  
“The bags.”  
“They are Astrid’s, aren’t they?”  
“No. They are for you. I bought them.”  
So she was shopping for him when she had left before, Henrik cursed himself for his selfish thoughts. A big surprise to receive a gift from Saga. This Italy thing was becoming a series of revelations.  
He opened the first bag and found two silk ties, one in tones of blue and grey – for your eyes, she said – and one with a prevalence of red, a change for his usual dark suits.  
“The clerk said this is the land of silk, so I bought two. Open the other.”  
A light grey shirt, Italian style, slim fit. She insisted him to wear it for dinner.  
The third bag was his new Italian cooking book.  
He was embarrassed by her kindness, she sure had controlled the size of his shirts to buy one, and he imagined how difficult for her to enter in a shop and buy something for a man, the questions from the clerks, the innuendo about husband’s or partner’s tastes.  
He wanted to thank, wanted to hold her and said that he never received objects that meant so much like those, but Astrid was there, so he bowed his head to briefly kiss her cheek and thanked her softly.  
Astrid was watching, her new book in hand.  
“I’m going in my room to draw, it seems you haven’t been alone for some times. See you for dinner.”  
Henik was happy his daughter had a fast understanding of the way things were.  
“I was going to take a shower,” he stated, “but if you think I can do it later….”  
It seemed his shower had to wait. 

During the night they left the window open, they were on the 6th floor and nobody could look into the room.  
“There’s something I wanted to ask you for a very long time, but I was afraid.”  
“Then ask.”  
“In prison…you decided to see me, in the visiting room with the bed.”  
“Yes.”  
“Did you really want me, me Henrik I mean, or any man would be good for you?”  
She turned her face to the wall.  
He knew for her it was so easy to refuse an answer, to avoid some topics  
He was used to, but he thought their relationship was now reaching a point where such retreats were no more healthy for a future together, however they decided to build it.  
“I’ve thought a lot about it. I wanted you, I couldn’t loose you, but if I told you how much, you would have run away, afraid of me.”  
“Saga, I'd never..”  
“You could. I was a failure there, I was nothing, no more a detective, no more a daughter or a sister or a woman, nothing. I lost everything with my freedom and I couldn’t accept to loose also you. So when they asked me if I had a partner for conjugal visits I wrote your name without thinking what it meant.”  
She stopped, like she was drained of every word; she never was so explicit in expressing her feelings, neither the night she confessed her love for him and the abortion of their child.  
He knew that he had to do the talking for her.  
“Because it was easier to think it was only sex?”  
“Yes.”  
“And if you offered me sex I’d continued to come see you? Right?”  
“I had only that to offer. And I knew you could go to the club again.”  
“No, Saga, after our first time I never looked at another woman, except once. And I’m ashamed of myself because I hurt you, making you know I cheated on you by purpose.”  
“We’re not married, it wasn't exactly cheating.”  
“I know, marriage is not necessary to be committed to each other and that's what I feel for you.”  
“I've never had something that lasted like us.”  
“We've had our difficulties.”  
“And we managed quite well.”

“I’ve tried to avoid too many things about Alice and the girls. How things were difficult at home. The NA somehow made me look forward too much, so I lost contact with my past. I was scared to loose you because for me you were my only hope.”


	5. Chapter 5

Ch 5  
Saturday morning they passed through the gate of the funicolare.  
Carla was waiting for them at the arrival with her brother Edoardo, a boy in his late teen, still in high school.  
“My mother wants you to come home after for an aperitivo. We live close but it’s a steep and narrow road.”  
They squeezed in the Fiat Punto and went to the lighthouse above the hill. Carla explained it had been build in memory of Volta, the scientist born there who invented the battery.  
The view was 360° spectacular.  
Carla pointed at Milan, far south in the flat land. Then the Alps north and the strange form of the lake under them.  
Saga has read on her book the Y reversed shape, the glacial erosion that lead to its birth; she discussed about the history of the lake with Carla, whose classical background in high school was now helpful for law university.  
Carla’s’ family was friendly, her dad, Piero, also a lawyer, was a joyful man with a salt and pepper beard.  
Their house was an old villa with a small garden, full of rescue dogs, because Carla’s mother, Francesca, was a veterinarian.  
Astrid spent an hour playing with them and Edoardo while the adults sipped refreshing drinks and ate a little under the porch.  
“I never imagined such a hospitality in Italy” Henrik thanked.  
“Carla talked a lot about you and we decided to invite you here.” Francesca explained.  
“Danish hospitality is believed to be one of the best in the world, contrary to Swedish.”  
Saga declared.  
“I don’t know about statistics and so on but I think if we were just a little more open to the people we met in our life things would get better.” Francesca stated and handed Saga a plate of Italian bresaola. “Try it, it’s pure meat, no fat, no additives. Made just north here. Do you like it?”  
“It is tasty! Can we buy and take it home? Henrik?”  
The conversation soon turned to food and its differences between their countries.  
“I know it will probably never happens, but if you someday go north, we’ll like to reciprocate.”  
“You never know, “ Piero added, pointing at Astrid and Edoardo sat on a bench, each petting a dog. 

 

The hill has been less torrid than the town at its feet; their last afternoon in Italy was one of the warmest day of the whole summer so Henrik thought about an idea to cool them off. He remembered during his walk the previous afternoon he had seen people walking with what seemed swimming pool bags and he believed he has spotted people jumping on the lake from a pier and a small sportive complex along the shore.  
He asked at the receptionist about swimming pools and received a few suggestions about the nearest Lidos on the lake.  
He proposed to the girls, the idea to teach Astrid to swim better, preparing her for the sport activities of her soon to be school.  
“A little swim and some tan, ok, Astrid?”  
“Yes dad, it will be fun. Saga, what do you think?”  
“I don’t like to swim.”  
“But you know how…”  
“Sure. I learned at school. Sport never suited me.”  
“You’re free to refuse.” a hint of sadness in Hehrik’s voice, “but you can come with us and read whatever you want.”  
Saga stared at him, the hotel room was too hot, she didn’t want to stay there or outside a cafè for the whole afternoon.  
“I’ll come with books.”  
They took a boat to reach the lido where Henrik paid for three deckchairs and a umbrealla and while he and Astrid changed into their swimsuits Saga bought a bottle of water and started reading.  
The deckchairs on the patch of grass most distant from the lake were less crowded than those closer to the swimming pool or the shore, the heat wawe had summoned lots of people at the lido.  
Saga finished her French noir book, set in Paris, after the three days she spent in that city during her self discovery trip she felt it was easier to understand the city and the characters.  
She looked around, searching for the Sabroes in the pool, when Astrid appeared from the path leading to the small restaurant of the Lido, a cold drink in her hand.  
“Do you want some?” She offered.  
“No, how’s the pool?”  
“Good. Dad made me worn out with his insistence in breathing and limbs coordination. I’m not good at swimming, he must accept it. I’ll get some tan now. We're the whitest people here.”  
“We're from a nordic country, Italians are more inbreed with different etnies than us.”  
Astrid covered her deckchair with a large towel and moved it from the cone of shadow into full sun.  
“Be careful with the sun protection. The risk of skin damage….”  
“I know, I’ve already put on the 50+ cream twice today. You told me to use it when we arrived and to wear sunglasses to protect my retina. It's you who forgot it, your face is already red.”  
“But I was in shadow.”  
“The sun moved and got your left cheek. llook”  
Astrid handed her a small mirror.  
Saga saw her red face, she had indeed forgot the cream. It had to be the compelling book, she told herself, not the relaxing holiday mood she was in.  
“Where is Henrik?” She asked while applying protection on face and neck.  
“He's on the pier, he wants to jump.”  
Saga wanted to find him so she sat on the edge; so many people were around she had troubles in finding the dark head, that seemed so common about Italians.  
Then she spotted him, near the small pier from where some kids were jumping into the water.  
He waited his turn then with no hesitation jump and went under, remerging and with some strong strokes swimming around the pier; soon he was back under the metal stair, his arms lifting all his weight.  
He seemed to want to jump again than changed his path, coming toward their spot.  
Saga felt a strange pleasure in admiring how toned his body was.  
During the months without drugs he had gained some weight, but since Saga returned from her trip he has started a regular fitness program, trying to enrol Astrid in it with few results.  
Bycicle and run rook off the extra weight so with that body he could pass for a men 10 years younger, beautiful and slim.  
Saga saw that other women – an also a few man - had the same idea, considering the heads that turned following his steps.  
Then suddenly he was kneeling near her, some drops falling on her trousers from his hair, a big smile that showed his teeth gap.  
“It’s so beautiful, why don’t you come with me? Astrid wants to relax but I feel to swim again.”  
“I haven’t swim for a long time.”  
“You never forget how to.”  
“I don’t have a swim suit.”  
“I’ve seen some on sale at the entrance. A few had discounts.”  
His logic was becoming better than hers, she had to admit.  
Her eyes shifted from Henrik to the pool and back, then she stood up, grabbed her purse and the key of their locker.  
Ten minutes later she was back, wearing a sportive two piece, black with pink and violet stripes. Henrik was fascinated by the sight, the fabric was compressing her breasts just a little, she had made her long hair in a ponytail using an elastic band so that her neck seemed longer.  
The shorts were flat on her belly, she was fit, his cooking skills had made her loose a little weight and she started doing a fast workout every morning before going out.  
Better forget that if things had followed another path she could be near term, now, ready to give birth to their child; it was not meant to be, he was trying to set his mind on it, but a fleeting painful sensation still could make his heart ache when he saw a pregnant woman or a toddler with parents.  
Other eyes noticed Saga, two young men, tanned, muscular built, in their late twenties, probably. One poked into the ribs of the other to signal him the blond woman approaching and they stopped, let her pass by then followed.  
When Saga was a few steps from Henrik, he opened his arms like to welcome her.  
“So beautiful. Turn around.” He asked her, just a little too loud, to make his voice heard.  
She did as requested and Henrik moved a step forward, enough to pass a hand over her arm, so that the youngs would see who her man was. He reinforced the idea walking beside her to the water, casting a glance over his shoulder to see the younger suitors return to their seats.  
Until they were secret lovers, unknown to the colleagues, he never experienced jealousy because she had no interest in other men or accepted invitations.  
After prison and Astrid and colleagues knowing, after the first kiss, after she was back, something slowly shifted inside him, going public with her the way partners do become a desire stronger day by day.  
She refused at first, no restaurants, no Friday cinema, no Tivoli, no Sunday walks.  
Then Astrid’s birthday came and she asked an evening out, just the three of them, as a gift, so Saga had her first “pizza at the restaurant” experience.  
For the end of the art school, an exposition was set up and all families invited, Henrik cooked Saga's favourite Indian chicken and later was so skilful and passionate in bed she could not deny him to go and see the inauguration together.  
They were near the swimming pool, Henrik asked the big question.  
“Here or in the lake?”  
She looked at him, bowing her head a little, taking her time to decide.  
Her last swim had been at high school, she was obliged to get her grade, but she didn tlike the rules, the smell of chlorine in the water, the humid changing rooms, the instructor always shouting, like the results of the students depended on his high voice.  
Completely different from where she was now.  
She was free to choose, free to swim as she liked, because nobody was there to control her,.  
The swimming pool was crowded, two lines reserved for regular swimmers and the rest free to use.  
The lake had a bigger sense of freedom, maybe it was a little too deep foir her tastes, but she wasn't alone.  
“At school it was forbidden to jump.”  
“But can you do it?”  
“How deep is it?”  
“Quite deep, but we can jump together.”  
“Hand in hand?”  
“Hand in hand, yes.”  
They stood at the edge of the pier, looking at the blue wawes.  
Henrik offered his hand and Saga took it, firmly; he started the count.  
“One, two, three, jump.”  
They plunged into the water, it was so fresh it gave a chill through Saga’s whole body.  
Henrik kept her hand, helping her to return to the surface, pulling her closer.  
She was smiling, a large beautiful smile so rare on her; it was so easy to be happy, just doing simple things with those you love.  
“I want to go there. A race.”  
She pointed at a boa delimiting the swimming area.  
“A race? You and me?”  
“Yes, the winner get on top next time.”  
Henrik thought she planned to be the second, considering her preferences in bed, but she swimmed faster that he imagined and he couldn’t reach her.  
“I won!” She shouted touching the boa, like a child winning a precious prize for the first time. 

 

Astrid was out in the old town with Carla, Edoardo and their friends, a Saturday evening out was common for young Italians and they asked her out after dinner for an ice cream.  
Saga at first wanted to go straight to the hotel from the restaurant but the temperature was so high Henrik suggested her a walk along the path he had discovered.  
The first part of the path was crowded, it seemed half of the town was sufffering the heat, so they walked more to reach a free bench who seemed to float over the lake. A small ford behind it added fresh air and they sat looking at the town light reflected in the water.  
Up over the lighthouse was playing his dance of lights.  
“I like this place.” Saga stated. “It was a good idea to come here.”  
“I’m glad you accepted.”  
“It is a new experience, not like when I travelled alone. Then I was free, but nobody to talk to, to see things with. “  
“You had to sort things out. It all happened so fast.”  
“Yes. If only…” She sighed.  
A penny for your thoughts, Henrik murmured to himself. But it was enough, he had what he wanted.  
“I've wasted too many time living in the past, I want to move on for good, I want to make our lifes better.”  
She was looking at him in a strange way, her “hospital look”, as he called it, reserved for special occasions only. Her eyes were soft and her lips parted a little.  
Henrik held his breath while Saga slowly moved her head toward him, until her lips brushed his and her arm went around his waist.,  
He slide his own arm between the bench and her back, pulling her to him, never loosing their kiss.  
When her other hand rose to caress his cheek, her lips retracted just a little, so that when she spoke he still felt them close.  
“My rent expires in four days.”  
“What's your idea?”  
“I seldom use it, it's a waste of money. In case I'm late at university there are lots of hotels for a night.”  
“Suppose you got a place to stay for free.”  
“Interesting.”  
“With benefits, like cooking and conversation.”  
“And?”  
“A partner who wants to be with you.”  
“Suppose I accept.”  
“It's my home.”  
“Consider the deal is done.”

“Carla and Edoardo can take us to the airport, dad.”  
“We won’t make it five in the Punto.”  
“Their dad gives them his car.”  
They met their new friends outside the hotel, Saga had already packed and did a last walk along the lake.  
She leaned on the rail and looked at the landscape. Her fears about this holidays had been washed away by the waves of the lake. She felt ready for a new start, a new life. The year started in January but she remembered Francesca had said that for her summer holidays meant the real turn of the year and September was the real new beginning.  
Her phone buzzed, Henrik’s text.  
“Where are you? We’re ready.”  
She said goodbye to the lake and turned to reunite with her family.


End file.
